Pompidou, Where are you? Chapter 2
by pheloxiraptor
Summary: Join Pompidou and the gang: Frank, Alyssa, Stella and many more in a race against time as they track down a nomadic serial killer while they find clues all over Arcadia Bay to search for the whereabouts of Chloe Price and Max Caulfield. An exciting mystery yet to be unfold while the characters are not always the protagonist and the sidekick but her friends and frenemies.


Pompidou, Where are you?

Episode 2: American Rust

Frank's debilitating trailer drove to the forested asphalt road in the dead of night, where silence was everything he ever appreciated when driving through the winding path with his loyal companion, and best friend, Pompidou by the window, spluttering saliva and whining in fear of the darkness looming behind; but unfortunately Frank was having a complicated time meditating in silence when he was dealing with two teenaged women on the back of his wagon.

"I need to urinate but your bathroom smells." Alyssa whined, aggravating Frank as he drives the trailer.

"What do you want me to do about it? Clean it for you? I have to drive." He switched his glance to Stella. "Where on earth am I supposed to drive?"

"You know Chloe well, right? Where else would she go other than Blackwell or her house?" Stella inquired.

A dimmed light bulb hovering over his head suddenly ignited as a memory triggered his instinct. "I know where she hangs out."

"I need to pee." Alyssa whined, holding it in as she squirmed.

"We're not far from there so sit your ass down, will you?"

Alyssa obsequiously complied to what Frank ordered her to do because her trepidation of Frank kicking her out in the middle of the woods was gradually becoming a potential risk lest she did not kept her mouth shut; but she really needed to expunge her bladder, and she wouldn't have to if she did not order a large pint of cherry Slurpee at the seven eleven. She swiveled her conversation from Frank to Stella. "I thought we were looking for Max."

"We are! Where ever Chloe goes, Max goes along with her." Stella said, nonchalantly.

Alyssa detected a slight implementation of jealously and anathema resonating from Stella's latent, contemptuous attitude. It had never occurred upon her mind as to why Stella has been despising Max this recently, but she dismissed this as though she would soon be entering a forbidden territories on which she ought to be very cautious and understanding to not tread. Sensing that Stella did not care for what happened to Max Caulfield.

"Do you ever consider them as, you know, more than friends?"

Stella recoiled at the idea that Chloe and Max were together, not that she had any prejudices against homosexual relationships, but it was because she was not so ideal with romantic interest and feelings between friends and acquaintances; and she could very well care less about Max's romantic life. "It's not my business to say because I am not concern with their lives." Stella's response was becoming more caustic and cold, numbing Alyssa to the core.

"Why are you here?"

"Pharmaceutical transaction."

"You've acting so differently towards Max lately: are you mad at her?" Alyssa inquired, curiously.

"I'm not; and why do bring such questions to the table." Stella quickly snapped.

"That's a lie. Is this like reverse psychology when you say one thing but actually mean the other."

Stella did not want to dispute with Alyssa so she ignore her completely by administering Frank as an opportune transition to converse with, hindering Alyssa from getting her chance to speak: "You know this isn't a place for a queen like Rachel Ambers?"

"I haven't been cleaning since her disappearance. If she ever returned, I would clean up and use the money to get a decent place just for her. Probably get a new job. A haircut. A cat -"

Pompidou caught the last word and snarled at Frank immediately before Frank could understand his dog's feelings.

"I was just kidding about the cat part."

Pompidou felt alleviated and poked his head out the window to feel the cold wind smacking his face.

Frank muttered, lugubriously: "You never wanted me to have a cat."

Frank careened his trailer over the train tracks and drove hazardously into the tumultuous wilderness as the headlight aided his poor vision on the old, rustic dump, where Chloe inadvertently introduced him to Max, and where he did not graduate himself on making his very first impression to the peeping Tom when he threatened Chloe with a knife because she owes him five grand. Pondering about that altercation distraught him more than ever because he was not furious about the money, he was furious about Rachel's sudden disappearance: he did not come to realize it could be unintentional, and that she might be kidnapped against her own free will.

Seeing those old discarded heap of vintage appliances and cars and out-of-business merchandises made him sad, not about those material things, but about being dismissed because he was not physically attractive anymore to attract another mate, lest Rachel had ditched for a better-looking man. He didn't care much about his physical appearance too much, for what is worth he only cared about those who understood him and care for him, and seeing people these days concerning their relationships based solely on physical appearances and prestigious opulence had sunk his desire to live. All he wanted was Rachel but Rachel wanted someone to champion her career in becoming a model in Los Angeles: would that mean ditching him for good? Who knows?

Frank got out of the driver seat and glided towards the exit with Pompidou. Following him was Alyssa who pushed him aside so drastically because her urgent need to find the nearest resort to expunge her bladder was an imperative protocol, and there were no exceptions. Pompidou and Frank looked at each other confusedly, and walked out from the trailer along side Stella whose defensive guards were up and ready.

"Did you come here to kill us?" Stella asked, frightened by how secluded they were from the rest of densely-populated civilization.

"Uh…no, as a matter of fact this is Chloe's hangout. You see that building over there by the train tracks and the abandoned boat." He pointed her the direction of where Chloe and Rachel would hang out together and hide from the rest of the world.

Stella squinted her eyes to catch the sight at which the luminous light of the trailer's head-beam casts. "Yeah, I see."

"There you go, enjoy your investigation." Frank lend Stella two flashlights: one for her and one for her nuisance friend.

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Stella inquired.

"No: I will be your chauffeur, and you guys be the Hardy Boys."

"But -"

"What about some grilled cheese sandwiches once you're done with the investigation?"

"I did not sign up for this." Stella invoked, sternly.

"Me neither; and I am not going to ditch you guys if you're so worried about that."

"Fine, you could stay here in the trailer while me, Alyssa and Pompidou investigate." asserted Stella with more authoritative than she can exude.

"Go ahead: take Pompidou with you: he can take surveillance." Frank assented, congenially. He took out a beach chair from the trailer and set it in front of the trailer, which he would call his porch each time he reconcile the trailer in some locations.

Alyssa had returned from her very own makeshift, rudimentary latrine in the junkyard and took this opportunity in the very anticipation of spooking Stella. "Hey, Stella!"

"Ugh…you didn't wash your hand!" Stella screeched.

"I had anticipated that you were going to say that, but before you freak out at how disgusting I am, hear me out," Alyssa produced a miniscule item from her pocket. "I desensitized my hands by using this antibacterial hand sanitizer, now in a pocket-sized for your convenience."

"Are you planning to audition for an advertisement, Alyssa?"

"No…maybe…I don't know, anymore ." Alyssa placed her hand behind her head and scratched them.

"Let's get a move on: I don't want to be suspended from Blackwell for not being present in my dorm, like Max."

"Not really, Max was suspended because she didn't warn Principal Wells about Nathan the first time." Alyssa defended Max.

"As if, doesn't it ever occurred to you that she's been pointing blame on people like David and Mr. Jefferson. It sucks that Mr. Jefferson couldn't even go to San Francisco because of her."

"Well, are you forgetting that Mr. Jefferson made Kate cry and led her to commit suicide."

Stella sighed exasperatingly, knowing that Alyssa was correct on the money about Mr. Jefferson who was responsible for hurting their best friend. "You are right, but there were many other things that made her cry."

"Yup, you can say that again."

They followed Pompidou to the secret lair of Rachel Ambers and Chloe Price, which was like their rendition of Superman's Fortress of Solitude, but with wildlife and trees all around them. This is where they hide from the world and find solace and peace amidst the tainted beauties of what mother nature had to offer for these two expatriates of society. Inside their concrete fortress was a cluster of miscellaneous and plain everyday junks like empty bottles, confectionaries, magazines, empty pizza boxes, and cigarette butts. If Chloe had forgotten to extinguish her cigarette and deliberately toss it into the forest, Smokey Bear will swear vengeance against Chloe Price; and instead of missing posters of Rachel Ambers everywhere, it will be a bounty on Chloe's head in case she was not too careful.

Chloe might have admire nature but she did not give a rat's ass about cleaning up after herself, or at least recycle. At the entrance there were doodles done on ink of Rachel Ambers and Pompidou and opposite from the epicenter was Chloe and Rachel announcing their final departure to Los Angeles. On top of the doodle was a dart and nothing serious about that but a grand time for the dynamic duo to spend leisurely in their adventurous excursions. Some of the old, brittle, rained-down walls were furnished with torn magazine covers and pages, graffiti of defenestrated fishes, post-it notes art, square stickers, movie posters, and illuminati signs, all of which things on the looked exactly like a tumblr profile for real life expeditionary. Hanging against the wall was an exquisite elephant painting rendered in ink and acrylic; and by which were passenger seats modified as sitting instruments for the future derelicts.

Instead of using their application of time musing around for trifles detecting Chloe and Rachel's non-epicurean taste in art and aestheticism, Stella employed this virtue to find clues on the whereabouts of Chloe and Max. On the wall where the window was adjacent was the semblance of the girl's penmanship. Chloe wrote down that she was here, followed by Rachel and the poor, third-in-the-crowd Max Caulfield had done so to make herself present; but the "was" in "Rachel was here" had been encircled and written above it was "is," whilst the names Max and Chloe were encircled, annotating at the bottom of the third signature which was a threatening statement screaming in agony: "You're all going to die!" bleeding out in red paint.

Stella and Alyssa scrammed out to the exit, vaulted to the trailer as fast as their two feet go, and found Frank in the trailer marinating some Salisbury steaks. Frank, distraught at their appearance and pallor, asked what had happened before he can tenderized the meat. The girls explained to him what they had found in Chloe's fortress and an icy-cold drop of sweat crept down onto Frank's back as all his hair on his neck went up.

"What the hell are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of this town!" Frank exclaimed, and the two girls obliged and went inside his trailer. Frank dashed into the cockpit and simultaneously ignited the engines, but he hesitated in pushing the accelerator when he noticed something was amiss: his loyal buddy, Pompidou.

"Where's Pompidou?" He turned to the girls.

"I thought you have him?" Alyssa asked Stella.

"No. He wasn't with us when we were investigating the fortress." Stella said, tentatively.

"One of you girls go get him." Frank commanded at his maximum volume.

"No sire, Bob, I am not going outside with a serial killer on the loose, probably wondering around trying to capture one of us." Alyssa said. "Stella, you go.'

"I am not fulfilling your death wish!" She scorned in derision, and, aghast at the bleak outlook of her life, she turned to Frank who probably did not have much life left in him. "What don't you go Frank?"

"Me? What about integrity and teamwork?" Frank keenly reminded them on what they promise.

"Well, that went down the drain." Alyssa commented rather bluntly.

"Why don't we all go together?" Frank suggested.

"No; what if the killer slashed the tires then how we go from there?" Alyssa informed him the possible premonition she had portend.

"I can't leave him: he's my buddy." Frank cried out.

Stella sighed in exasperation and surrendered to his term: "Fine, we all go. Frank, bring whatever weapon you could muster out for us, and Alyssa," she leered, sensing that Alyssa might run away and bail them all into the hands of the serial killer. "You better have my back."

"Aye-aye, captain." Alyssa made a salutary gesture but as Frank left the cockpit to search for weapons, she whispered into her friend's ears. "Do you think he might have slaughter those girls?"

"What - no!" Stella retorted.

Alyssa attempted to convince her delirious friend: "He might have killed Rachel out of jealously, then he went on a killing spree and upon his berserk, he stumbled upon Chloe because he discovered that…that Rachel and Chloe were a thing…and poor Max," she gulped in sadness, "she might have witnessed the whole thing, and he killed her like…pew-pew-pew-pow-pow-pow-bam-bam-bam…" then she orchestrated the Psycho theme as she reenacted the shower scene.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frank asked as he was behind Alyssa, sneering at the entire scenario.

"She just thought you were the killer." Stella responded, nonchalantly.

Alyssa nudged her shoulder with her bulk fist. "Why would say that to him?"

"For god's sake, that hurts like hell! And to answer your question, he is not a killer."

"Don't underestimate people too easily, Stella." Alyssa warned her.

Frank ignored this stupid commotion and scurried out the door and turned to them once they exit the trailer. "Whatever you do: do not try to kill each other!" He handed Stella a loaded gun and Alyssa a large pot and pan while he equipped himself with a knife and the vigilance to remain at the front as the girls have his back. It always came as an instinct to lock the door after exiting outside the vicinity of his home, and he did just for safe caution.

They walked to the path where the fortress was positioned but not a Pompidou there nor anywhere, so they searched around the perimeter until they found a verdant tier where Max had once captured the essence of a translucent doe as she first visited Chloe's fortress of solitude. They marched upwards to the grassy roots of the untainted earth from the man-made waste, and found the umber-colored, hairy beast reposing silently at the side of a shallow excavation that once was interred by someone whom Frank has always love.

"Hey, boy, we've been looking all over for you." Frank comforted the poor dog, but the dog did not look excited to meet him. "Whacha got there, boy?"

Frank noticed a torn patch from a shirt he recognized: it was a plaid, checkerboard full-sleeved shirt that his vessel of love would ordinarily wear when no other clothes would orchestrated to her mood.  
"That's Rachel's cloth." He held it to his chest and sniffed the article as all those good memories and even few bad ones he had with Rachel, flooded into his mind, reducing him to tears. "My Rachel…someone fucking hurt my Rachel."

He was ventilating and pumping his fists against the dirt floor. "Someone is going to pay for my Rachel." He leered into the distance like he was performing an intense soliloquy on stage: "I am going to find this fellow, and when I do, oh, he better watch his back, because I am not giving this fucker any mercy, not what he did to my Rachel: I am going to perform an operation on him while he is kicking and breathing, then I am going to open him slowly and fuck with his entrails. You better watch out, whoever you are! What you did to my Rachel will not be compared to what I will do to you."

He launched himself upwards, alerting the girls and Pompidou and held onto Rachel's shirt and return back to the trailer with them. It would have been a sinister ending to unravel if Alyssa, as a penchant of hers, of course, did not turn the records of the turntables around to the directions where the readers wanted this chapter to end.

"If it's not too late to say this, but I don't think he's the killer."

Stella rolled her eyes and went inside the trailer before Alyssa turned this conversation into an obnoxious and head out somewhere, a place where Frank could gather an informant to help him with the case.


End file.
